Thursday, August 22, 2019
Politics

The World Don’t Move to the Beat of Just One Drum

My name is Rhoda Morgenstern. I was born in the Bronx, New York in December of 1941. I’ve always felt responsible for World War II. The first thing I remember liking that liked me back was food. I had a bad puberty; it lasted seventeen years. I’m a high school graduate. I went to art school. My entrance exam was on a book of matches.

I decided to move out of the house when I was twenty-four. My mother still refers to this as the time I ran away from home. Eventually, I ran to Minneapolis, where it’s cold and I figured I’d keep better. Now I’m back in Manhattan. New York, this is your last chance!

Beautiful scenery
Beautiful scenery

Now, the world don’t move to the beat of just one drum, what might be right for you, may not be right for some. A man is born, he’s a man of means. Then along come two, they got nothing but their jeans. But they got, Diff’rent Strokes, it takes Diff’rent Strokes. It takes Diff’rent Strokes to move the world.

My name is Victoria Winters. My journey is beginning – a journey that I hope will open the doors of life and link my past with my future. A journey that will bring me to a dark place to the edge of the sea high atop Widow’s Hill; and a house called Collinwood. A world never known, with people I’ve never met. People who, tonight, are still only shadows in my mind but who will soon fill the days and nights of my tomorrow…

 

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